It's a Wonderful Miller Life
by You-drive-me-nuts-miller
Summary: Everything Nick touches seems to go wrong. Work. Friends. Relationships. Perhaps it'd be better if had never existed at all...
1. No matter how hard you try

Rinse, stack, repeat.

Rinse, stack, repeat.

The collection of glasses currently covering the bar's surface did not seem to be getting any smaller as Nick continued to fill the dishwasher.

Rinse, stack, repeat.

Sighing, he rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, his gaze flickered to the watch on his hand. Two am.

Man he hated closing up the bar. It meant you got stuck with all the crappy jobs - taking out the trash, pushing the last drunken customers out of the door, dealing with any little 'surprises' left in the bathrooms. It sucked.

But tonight was even worse than usual. Bob was sick so he had pulled a double shift then he had dealt with a pretty rambunctious bachelor party who kept trying to sneak beers from the cooler. To top it all off, one of them had then puked on the bar (and down Nick's pants). His stomach shifted as the acidic smell rose up into his nostrils. A pretty shitty day, by all accounts.

And on top of all that, leering over his mind the whole day had been the fact that Jess and he had had their first real argument as a couple. The kind of fight that can change things. The kind of fight that can break things.

With a grimace he looked around the deserted bar. The twinkling Christmas lights that they had set up around the room seemed to taunt him with their jolliness. Sometimes he hated this place.

Slamming the dishwasher door shut with his foot, he picked up a towel and began to run it over the beer stained surface of the bar, letting his mind replay the events of that morning.

* * *

"Morning beautiful," he purred, kissing her bare shoulder delicately. He felt her shift beside him, turning until her face was illuminated by the soft glow of the early sunshine.

"Mmmm," she mumbled sleepily, pushing up her arms into a stretch as she let out a soft yawn. "Morning to you too, handsome."

He buried his hand under her waist and pulled her closer to him, breathing in her sweet floral scent. She always smelled so good. Snuggling into her neck, he just began to think he might get a morning treat when his phone started to ring out to the tune of 'Cotton Eyed Joe' - vibrating softly against the nightstand as he reached out and picked it up.

"Hello?" he asked wearily, slightly disappointed at the intrusion. His mother's voice blared loudly through the speaker. "Mom - you don't have to talk so loud!" Grumpily he pushed himself to a sitting position.

"Sorry honey," she replied, barely any quieter, "I'm calling about the wedding."

"Wedding?" Nick asked, sneaking a look at Jess as she lay beside him, her chestnut curls pooled around her face as she watched him talk.

"Honey, we need numbers. You know it's in six weeks - I need to know if that lady friend of yours will be making it."

Beside him, he felt Jessica stir - her ears pricking up at the mention of her. "Wedding?" she mouthed to him, her face confused.

He felt the color drain from his face. He hadn't told her about Jamie's wedding yet. He was keeping it a secret. It was going to be a surprise…

"Mom, I can't talk about this right now," he replied in a terse voice, turning away from Jess, trying to disguise the conversation. "I'll call you later, okay?"

"Alright honey, but I need to know by New Year's."

"Fine Mom," he muttered as he pressed the cancel button and tossed the phone to the bottom of the bed. _How much did she hear? _

He didn't have to wait long to find out.

"A wedding? Jamie's getting married?" her voice was etched in confused and her brow was crumpled up tightly - her pale blue eyes glassy and clear.

"Um-" he stuttered, quickly licking his lip as he sought for an excuse.

"You brother is getting married and you weren't going to tell me?" She drew back from him, her voice hardening as she spoke, she was looking at him in the most peculiar way.

"No- that's not what-"

"Well that's what it sounds like to me. How long have you known about this?" she demanded, balling her hands in his tartan comforter.

"Two months," he admitted. _No, no, no - this was not what was supposed to happen._

"Two months?" she cried, swinging her legs off the bed and pushing herself to a standing position, "And - what, you weren't going to ask me to go? You weren't even going to tell me? What the hell, Miller?"

Shuffling across the bed towards her, he could see the first pricks of tears appearing in the corner of her eyes. "No, wait, Jess - that's not what had happened, I-"

She shook her head, "No, I get it. It's fine. I can see this is not as important to you as it is to me. You've been holding back on me for a while Miller and I understand. You're not as serious about things as I am."

_No, no, no - what the hell was going on?_

"Jessica you are completely overreacting." He began to laugh - a narrow nervous laugh that fell flat in the silence between them.

"Am I, Nick?"

She'd never spoken to him like that before.

Suddenly his phone began to ring again; Cotton Eyed Joe taunting him as they stared at each other. Glancing over he saw it was the bar. It was supposed to be his morning off; it must be important.

"I have to-" he gestured to the phone as she watched him pick it up.

"Whatever Nick," she muttered as she swept out of the room, slamming the door behind her - the vibrations echoing through the loft.

* * *

It was after three by the time he made it back home. Jess's door was shut and her light was off. She always left her door open when he worked late so he could crawl in and cocoon her body with his own.

But not tonight.

Instead he grabbed a Heisler, downing its contents before he took a long, hot shower. Washing away the smells of the bar, trying to think.

_All he had wanted to do was surprise her. _The two tickets to Chicago he had bought sat in his bureau, along with a reservation for a fancy hotel. It was her Christmas gift.

Why oh why, hadn't he just explained that this morning?

Instead the woman of his dreams now believed he was a thoughtless schmuck who didn't care about her.

His mind couldn't rest - thinking and worrying. He almost knocked on her door twice but he knew she had work the next day and, frankly, he was scared. What if she rejected him? This was the longest they had gone without talking. She wasn't answering his calls or texts. He missed her.

It had been almost 24 hours.

Trying to sleep was futile and instead he lay and counted the minutes until she would be awake. Wondering if sleep had cleared her mind. Maybe he could explain everything after all and-

"Nick!"

His door swung open and an angry Schmidt pounded into the room. He quickly glanced at his alarm clock - six am, his roommate was awake for his pre-work gym 'sesh' (as he liked to call it).

"Hey man, what are you doing?"

Schmidt's eyes bulged as he stood in the doorway.

"What the hell did you do to Jess?"

"Jess? Nothing, it's all a big misunderstanding." He swung his legs onto the floor and pushed his head into his hands.

"Nothing?" Schmidt replied incredulously, "That woman spent three hours crying in my room yesterday. Over you, you big jerk!"

"She did?" Nick asked sadly. He had hurt her. Really hurt her.

"Yeah, you idiot. I knew you would do this. I knew you would screw up eventually."

Nick's heart dropped. His friends words merely confirming his own feelings.

He was a screw up.

He was a failure.

He didn't deserve the good things - he just wrecked them.

"Is that what you really think of me?" he asked quietly, tapping his foot anxiously against the floor.

Schmidt's had swung to his hip, "If the shoe fits…"

Nodding, Nick stood up. He dug a pair of sweats from his dresser before pulling on a half clean hoodie and pushing his feet into a pair of sneakers. Finally he walked up to his friend who had, during all the time, watched him in silence

"Well I guess that's what I am then."

Wordlessly, he had stormed out of the room, grabbing his keys and a bottle of whiskey that sat on the kitchen countertop before walking out of the loft.

* * *

The morning air was cool against his skin. He dug his hands further into his pockets as he hugged his body - the bottle of liquor still tucked under his left arm.

The empty streets suited his mood and he walked aimlessly for what seemed like hours until he found himself at the park. It was quiet, the only people visible were a few early dog walkers and joggers. Tiredness suddenly washed over him. Stumbling towards a nearby bench, he sat down with a thud, using the thumb to twist off the cap from the bottle before taking a long swig.

Yep. This was about right. Nick Miller - failure at life, emotionally stunted, seeking solace in the bottom of a bottle. Well, even if that wasn't true, it's what everyone seemed to think, so why not prove them right?

Lying back against the hard wooden seat, he felt the alcohol begin to chase away the chill, slowly seeping into his blood steam.

What a mess, what a huge, ridiculous mess his life was. And he'd managed to screw up just about the only good thing in it. _Jessica._

He felt something shift beside him. Sighing, he said, "Plenty of other benches in the park," his voice gruff and flat. The stranger didn't seem to take the hint. Turning his head to his right, he began to repeat himself, "I said there are-"

He paused when he recognized the softly lined face beside him. A half smile pulled on his lips as he straightened up - "Tran! If I'd have known it was you…"

His companion merely smiled - as if he expected anything more from him.

Silently he continued to take small sips of whiskey, rubbing his face at the same time - trying to chase away the last of his tiredness.

"You know what Tran? Life sucks. Specifically, my life." The old man continued to beam away - could he even speak English?

_Whatever, _Nick thought, he needed to get this out.

"I have this amazing ability to screw up the simplest of tasks." He shook his head, breathing heavily and watching his breath mist into the frigid air. "I seem to have some amazing ability to make the people around me miserable. Great, huh?"

Tran still smiled. Nick sighed, placing the bottle on the bench between them.

"You know what? I'm a failure. I fail at life. That's like the worst thing you can fail at - worse than Driver's Ed, worse than college, worse than anything. I'm a failure."

Saying the words out loud made them seem all the more real. He let them sink in, pushing his mood lower. He took another long drink. The alcohol was starting to pull him under now - the lack of sleep and food combing in with the liquor to sink him into sweet oblivion. Let him forget for a little while.

"Maybe things would be better around here if I were never born."

A sudden wind whipped up around them. Small pieces of trash flew through the air and Tran's floppy hair danced wildly. A peculiar, vacant feeling pervaded his body - like he was there, but he _wasn't_ there too.

The park was starting to blur. He pulled his arms around himself, trying to fight the chill - sleep was overtaking him. He hadn't drank that much.

He looked at the silent man beside him. Still smiling; just looking at Nick, never moving. He had this strange glint in his eye.

"Tran?" Nick asked as his head began to roll around his shoulders.

_What the-_

But the thought vanished as he blacked out.


	2. Be careful what you wish for

**_Thanks to my wonderful beta Ztofan... And Merry Christmas guys!_**

A damp, tickling sensation began to pull at Nick's cheek. He raised his hand and tried to brush it away - starting as he made contact with a warm mountain of fur.

"Urgh!" he cried as he sat up abruptly, shaking his head and wiping his face with the back of his hand. It was a dog. A large, shaggy dog had been licking his face.

_Great, just great, _he thought, grimacing. Inside his mouth felt like cotton wool and was tainted with the taste of stale alcohol. Falling asleep on a park bench was certainly not one of his prouder moments.

"Good afternoon Nicholas."

He started at the sound of a cut-glass English accent. It was coming from behind him. Slowly he turned.

_Tran?_

"I take it you had a nice nap?" Tran continued, his face still holding his usual beaming smile.

Nick shook his head. What was going on? Tran didn't talk - hell even if he did, it was highly unlikely he would sound like one of the cast of Downton Abbey.

"Okay - I get it. I'm hallucinating. I drank too much liquor and passed out on a park bench." Determined to prove his theory correct, Nick slapped himself hard on the face. "Crap!" he exclaimed as the red heat of pain scorched his skin

"Nicholas, you are not dreaming. My name is Clarence Tran, angel second class and more importantly - _your_ guardian angel." Tran stood looking down at Nick, his hands in his pockets as though what he had said was entirely normal.

"Wait. So you are trying to tell me you're not some quiet Vietnamese guy who hangs out in the park?"

"Not quite," he nodded, "I am an angel and have been looking out for you for some time."

Nick scoffed and turned away from the other man, staring out across the park, "Well some fine job you've done so far then."

Tran made his way around the bench and sat beside Nick. "Like I said, second class - I haven't earned my wings yet."

"Oh, well that makes perfect sense then," Nick said, rolling his eyes. He looked down at his watch - it was almost two. "Damn - I'm late for work."

"Oh, you don't need to worry about that," laughed Tran, "You made a wish - remember?"

A cool wind whipped around the pair as Nick turned to face him, "A wish?"

"Why yes - you wished you had never been born."

Nick let out a small guffaw - as if this day could not get any stupider. "Okay - now who has put you up to this? Winston? Schmidt?" He stood up and looked around, "Okay guys! You can come out now. Ha ha." But there was silence. So he picked up the bottle of liquor and turned to leave, "Fine - so I guess this is a long distance prank, but I'm late for work, so if you'll excuse me."

Then he stormed off, leaving an open-mouthed Tran in his wake.

* * *

"Only thirty minutes late - not too bad," Nick muttered to himself as he rounded the corner to the block where Clyde's was situated. As he neared the bar, he noticed the street was much untidier than normal - trash cans overflowed, a burned out car sat at on the other side of the road.

Then he saw Clyde's. The normal clean and tidy walls were covered in spray paint. The neon sign which glowed red at night was shattered and hanging from the wall by a wire.

"What the hell!" he screamed, running to make up the last distance between himself and the building. A homeless man pushing a shopping cart made his way past Nick as he scanned the building. "Hey - hey you! What happened to the bar?"

The man stopped and eyes his suspiciously - his face was dirty and partly hidden by a woolen hat, but he recognized that face. "Bob?" he asked in disbelief.

"Who's asking?" he replied gruffly.

"Nick, it's Nick. Nick Miller."

Bob started at him blankly,

"We work together at the bar. What the hell is going on-"

"Look man, I don't know you. And I haven't worked at the bar in over four years - since it shut down."

Nick shook his head, "No - I was working here last night-"

Bob squared up to him, "You been smoking something man? Cos I suggest you get out of here. This is not the neighborhood to be wandering around in that state." And with that he turned and began to push his cart away.

Confused, Nick rubbed his eyes and dug his fingers into his hair

_What was going on?_

"I told you," came the same _voice from the park,_ "You were never born."

Nick span around and faced Tran - where the hell had he come from. "Why are you following me? What's going on?"

Tran sighed and shook his head, "Oh this is going to be harder than I thought…"

"What happened to Clyde's? I was only here twelve hours ago…"

Placing his hand on Nick's shoulder, Tran met his gaze, "Nick. Clyde's closed four years ago. You never worked here - the bar had a high turnover of staff and they eventually had to close."

"But… that's impossible," Nick said, his brow furrowed. "I'm going home." With a renewed determination, he turned on his heel and began to march down the street.

"Nick - wait, you have no home here! Remember!"

He turned and gave Tran a sharp look, "Stop following me!"

As he raced back to the loft, his mind whirled and spun - what was happening? Was this all some kind of prank? This was a little extreme even for Winston.

Approaching the familiar blue steel and brick building, he let out a sigh of relief. This looked the same. Maybe he was just going crazy.

Racing up the stairs, he reached the fourth floor, digging out his key he plunged it in the lock. But it wouldn't turn.

"Nick, I told you twice already."

He spun and saw Tran once again, still with the same patient smile.

"Go away, now. Before I call the cops." He turned his attention back to the door and tried to wrangle the key to make it turn.

"You're wasting your time," sang Tran before Nick yanked the key so hard it broke in the lock. "Told you."

Nick turned and gave him a withering look.

"You. Were. Never. Born. Ergo, you do not live in apartment 4D. You never have."

Licking his lips, Nick stuffed his hands into his pockets. So clearly he _was_ dreaming - that was the only explanation. He might as was well play along.

"Oh right. So say you are telling the truth. Where are Schmidt and Winston and - Jess?" He swallowed hard, the pain of earlier coming back in waves.

"How about we take one at a time? Follow me.

Tran pressed the button of the elevator and the doors pulled open, he stepped inside, gesturing to Nick to join him. "Come on, we haven't got all day."

* * *

The doors opened on the second floor - but it wasn't the second floor he was used to. It looked completely different - dirty beige walls and trash on the floor. Silently he followed Tran until the stopped at a door numbered 2A.

Tran held out a hand to stop him, "Now Nick, I need to warn you - he's not quite what you might expect."

"Huh?" Nick frowned. Ignoring Tran, he reached out and tapped on the door. After a few seconds he heard heavy footsteps approaching before the door swung open.

"Yeah?"

Nick gasped. In front of him stood Schmidt. All 300 pounds of him.

"Buddy - what happened?" he asked.

"Who are you?" Schmidt replied, taking a bite of the sandwich in his hand.

"It's me - Nick! What has happened to you?" His eyes scanned up and down his friend's body in amazement. He hadn't seen him this large in ten years.

Schmidt narrowed his eyes. "I have no idea who you are. If you have come here to make fun of the fat guy, then well done, how original. Now if you excuse me, I have work to do." And with that he slammed the door in Nick's face.

"What the hell?" he muttered as he turned around.

"He never had you as a roommate. He never bought the juicer. Never lost weight. He works at home as a computer programmer."

"But that's impossible - Schmidt is vain and arrogant and crazy…"

Tran smiled again - this time one of pity. "He never had your friendship, Nick. He never found that part of himself - you brought it out in him. Now he's quite the recluse."

"This is crazy…"

Nick began to make his way back to the elevator when he stopped. "Wait - what about Winston? Where is he?"

"Ahhh," Tran sighed, "Our loveable prankster. Well, he never pursued basketball, never went to Latvia. He didn't have the confidence. Instead he is now an office temp. Has been for eight years now."

"Eight years?" Nick cried, "How is that possible?"

"You don't realize how many people's lives you've touched, do you?" Tran asked in wonder. "Come on," he ordered, pulling on Nick.

"Wait - I need to see Jess. Where is she? She hates me…"

"Patience Nick, we have one other stop first."

* * *

After a meandering stroll through streets Nick didn't recognize, they suddenly turned onto a rundown block. The yards were full of overgrown weeds, the paint of the houses was fading and peeling and rusting appliances littered the sidewalk.

"Where are we Tran? I don't recognize this area."

"Chicago," was his soft reply, before he pointed at a house across the street, "Look," he ordered.

Stepping out of the house was a figure - somehow strangely familiar. Her clothing looked old and her hair was covered with a frayed hat, but he knew her straight away.

"Mom?" he asked and Tran nodded softly.

The woman closed the door and made her way onto the sidewalk - stopping as she did to pick up a coin. He caught a glimpse of her face - her hair was streaked with grey and her face lined with heavy creases.

"What happened to her?" Nick wondered, his breathing becoming heavier.

"Without you Nick, there was no one to help when your father was gone. She couldn't cope - they lost the house, Jamie spent his teenage years in and out of Juvenile detention and now that your father is gone, she is all alone.

"No, that's impossible. I was there! I took care of her, I made Jamie go to school…" his voice trailed off as the realization sunk in. Maybe this was real. Some strange kind of reality, but real all the same.

He watched sadly as the figure made her way down the street. Something inside him lurched. This was not what he wanted.

Slowly he turned to Tran.

"Where's Jess, Tran? Where is she?"

Tran sighed and cocked his head in the direction from which they had just came. "Come on, one more stop…"

Ten minutes later, they were standing outside a small coffee shop on a leafy street. They took a seat outside, quietly waiting.

"Where is she?" Nick asked, feeling a little desperate.

"Here she comes," replied Tran.

And there she was.

Wrapped in a grey wool coat, she sat herself opposite them, her profile clearly visible. Her face was pale and drawn, her chestnut curls seemed matted and unruly. Her dark rimmed glasses failed to hide the redness in her eyes.

"What's wrong with her? I should go-" Nick made to stand up but Tran grabbed his arm and pulled him down.

"She doesn't know you Nick."

They watched as she ordered a pot of tea, before digging a book out of her purse and sitting silently reading.

"Jessica never moved into apartment 4D. Spencer managed to worm his way back into her life. He is still cheating on her, but Jessica - well, she has lost all her spark. Her confidence."

Nick's eyes flashed to a plain silver band on her left hand.

"Is she- are they-?"

"Married," Tran nodded.

"But she doesn't love him…" Nick muttered, his eyes consumed by the sad figure in front of him.

He felt Tran's hand cover his, "She never learned what real love was, Nick. She comes here whenever they have had a fight. It's almost every day now."

Nick's stomach dropped. This was wrong - all wrong. Some terrible kind of dream. Some awful, awful dream that he desperately wanted to wake up from.

He didn't want this.

Schmidt, Winston, his mom, Jessica…

How could he let them all down?

Suddenly, he pushed back his chair and started running. Aimlessly running - he knew not where.

He started to cross to the other side of the road, pausing for a second before running out into the traffic. Then there was a car horn. The sound of brakes. Then blackness.

_**A review would be lovely... (and may motivate me to put up the final chapter sooner!)**_


	3. All's well that ends well

"Nick, Nick…"

The soft voice sang through the chatter and regular beeping sound that filled the mist of his mind.

"Nick…"

His neck ached. As did his back. He couldn't move his arm. What the?

He moaned softly as he tried to pry his eyes open. It was bright, so bright it hurt his eyes. Was he dead?

"Shh, Nick, stay still… you're in hospital."

Jessica.

"Je-Jessica," he mumbled, finally opening his eyes a little. Her face was inches from his, her hair pooled around her shoulders, her faced etched in concern.

"Shh, I told you. Stay still. You got pretty banged up there."

He voice was soft and patient - gone was the shrill tone of the previous day.

The events of the the past 48 hours flashed through his mind. The fight. The bar. Schmidt. Falling asleep on the park bench.

His dream.

It was a dream - right?

Licking his lips, he tried to stretch out a little, straightening his legs and rolling his neck to assess the damage.

"What happened?" he asked drowsily, watching happily as a small smile appeared on her lips.

"You got hit by a car you idiot. What the hell were you doing walking around miles from the loft?" She reached over and ran her fingers through his hair, before he snatched her hand with his working arm and placed a soft kiss on her palm.

"Sorry," he smiled.

"You better be," she retorted with a hint of cheekiness. Leaning a little closer, she cupped his cheek with her hand. "But I'm sorry more. I shouldn't have argued with you yesterday like that. It was childish and stupid-"

"Hey, hey," Nick soothed, reaching up to give her a small kiss which made his neck twinge painfully. "I was the dumbass. I should have told you. I just, well, it was a surprise. Or at least I wanted it to be."

Jess smiled, tears prickling the corner of her eyes. "I know. I called Bonnie when we found out about the accident and she told me about the tickets and the hotel…"

He reached up and chased a tear from her cheek with his thumb. How could he ever fight with her? How could he every believe she didn't care for him?

"I wanted to do something special for you."

"You dumb boy - every day with you is special. Don't you know how amazing you are?"

He felt a blush spread over his cheeks, a warmth filling the hollowness that had lived in his belly for the past day.

"I'm not amazing…" he whispered, turning away from her gaze.

"Yes you are," she retorted, "And I love you." His breath caught and he caught her eye - her baby blues were glistening with truth, honesty and love.

The words were slow to digest into his mind. She loved him. She didn't want to end this. She wanted more. A slow, glorious smile spread over his lips as her love spread though him - coating him like a warm, cozy blanket. Making him feel safe and complete.

"I love you too Jess. So much." She bent down and rested her forehead on his. He enjoyed the feeling of her warmth and closeness. "Please - let's not fight like that again. I thought it was over…"

"Over?" she cried, "You're not getting rid of me that easily Miller," she laughed as she reached down for a lingering kiss.

"Oh my God, can you two not keep your hands off each other for ten minutes?"

Pulling apart, Nick saw Schmidt enter the room. Normal Schmidt. Skinny Schmidt. Tight pants and eyebrows was back.

"Schmidty! He cried, reaching out to his friend, "Come here you dumbass, give me a hug."

"Really?" Schmidt asked, looking at him suspiciously.

"Yeah," Nick replied with a nod.

But instead of a hug, he got Schmidt's hands cupping his face and a full lip on lip Fredo kiss.

"Bleugh," he coughed as he pulled away, "That's not a hug man!"

He gave Jess a look and she merely shrugged.

Winston approached the bed, in his hands a pile of snacks, "This is the best the vending machine as to offer Nick - I know you hate hospital food."

"Thanks man," Nick smiled. "Winston - you did go to Latvia right?"

"Um, yeah…"

"And you do work at a radio station now…"

"Yeah…"

"Just checking," Nick smiled.

Winston gave him a strange look, "Did you break your head as well as your arm?"

"Not quite," Nick laughed, looking around at his friends and realising just what he would miss if he wasn't around.

* * *

_Six weeks later…_

"Nick - how's the arm?"

Nick stretched out his hand and twirled his fingers. It felt so good to be free of the cast he had worn for over a month. It was pretty damn inconvenient - in a lot of ways. "Great babe," Nick smiled, leaning down to give her a kiss.

"Good - you can help carry the cases then," she laughed, slapping his butt as she walked past him. "We gotta leave in an hour for our flight. Wanna get a coffee first?"

But Nick had something else he needed to do. Something he had planned for a while.

"Actually - I need to got out for a walk. Something I forgot."

"Okay," she nodded, giving him one of her perfect smiles, before whispering, "I love you."

"And I love you," he replied. Still amazed every time she said it. Still disbelieving that this woman loved him.

—-

He found the bench easily - there were only a few in the park it seemed. He sat, arms crossed, waiting.

And then he appeared.

Ambling slowly down the pathway, smile on his face, his usual grey pants and sweater.

"Tran!" Nick cried, holding up his arm, "Tran!"

The other man stopped and smiled, giving Nick a small smile.

"How are you?"

He stayed silent. Perhaps he was wasting his time.

"Look Tran," Nick shifted so one leg was crossed over the other, "About a month ago. In the park. Do you remember…"

The old man looked at him - tilting his head, the lines of his face slowly deepening as his smile spread.

Finally he shrugged.

Slowly Nick nodded.

"Okay. I get it. I was dreaming." He stood and gave Tran one last look, "Good to see you friend."

* * *

Almost back at the loft, he heard a soft bang behind him. He turned around and saw no one. He scanned the street - his eyes finally settling on a small bundle on the ground. He picked it up - it was a small sheet of paper wrapped around a rock.

Curious he undid the string that held the paper in place and pressed the paper flat.

'Nick. This is Clarence. I'm sorry I was unable to talk to you earlier - but life as a first class angel is a busy one and we are not allowed to talk to humans unless we are on a mission. Yes - I got my wings. All thanks to you. I don't think you need me now, but I'll always keep an eye on you. You seem to know what's important in life. But always remember - you are important and loved.  
-Clarence'

His heart began to race as he looked around to see who had thrown the note. Was someone playing tricks? Suddenly the wind whipped up and tugged the paper from his hands. He chased it down the street - watching it weave across the sidewalk until is finally rose into the air and out of sight.

He stood in disbelief.

Did it really happen? Was it all real?

Until a sudden feeling of calmness enveloped him and pushed his worries away.

Whatever had happened - he really did have a wonderful life.

_**And a final merry Christmas from me - I hope you are having a wonderful day, wherever in the world you are!**_


End file.
